Some time ago, or in the future, I examined the female brain (here).
Not content with that, I have furthered my research by comparing & contrasting the Blonde female brain with the Brunette’s to establish why certain characteristics exist with the former but not the latter.
As you can see, there is no discernible difference. The reason for the Blondes’ behaviour & intellectual quota remains a mystery which is why, perhaps, they are so intriguing.
Lord Sywwow has introduced a new service to his repertoire of Lady’s Delights: Unique Umbrella Um-bridge.
The ever inventive tormentor of Tarts has added to his array of accoutrements: an umbrella. Not just any umbrella, which would be crass, but a Fox.
The Fox Umbrella Company dates back nearly two centuries. Sywwow’s Umbrella is over 50 years old, the current version retailing at north of £200
Lord Sywwow; “Thanks to the willing assistance from a visitor hailing from far far away I successfully tested the, cane-like, gentleman’s accessory. Whilst lacking in physical force it affords penetrative functionality and style. Style being the very essence of everything I do”.
You, yes you, can avail yourself of this new treat as from the fifth of November That’s the fifth of November…
In the ever more complex world of Bitcoin and Cryptocurrencies due to the fact the usual culprits, banks & governments, want more than their fair share of the action for doing precisely nothing, the spectre of ‘Regulation’ has made its presence known.
Regulation is a lie used to seize a stake of anything and everything akin to the weekly payoff to the Mob.
The people who run Bitmex have found out what happens when these mobsters decide you’re dispensable and have found themselves facing an ever-lengthening list of criminal charges from the US Government.
In short, as they are dealing in a currency (a Crypto Currency), they are deemed to be a ‘Bank’ and, therefore, subject to The Bank Secrecy Act.
Meanwhile, over at the evil empire which is Facebook, they are introducing their own Crypto Currency. Oh dear, this means, under the laws applied to Bitmex, they’re now a bank, this in turn places phenomenal responsibility on them to ensure their customers are not drug dealers. (ALL their US Customers: that means YOU). Equally, they can’t sell the information they’ve gleaned from their customers as this too would be in violation of The Bank Secrecy Act.
Facebook’s entire business model is based around selling the information of their customers. They will have to chose whether to be a bank or a ‘social media’ company or face the consequences.
Being a massive organisation, Facebook may choose to simple absorb the punishment for the offences which is five years per US customer and a paltry $2,000 fine. This means Mark Zuckerberg and those at the top face an affordable fine of $446,000,000,000 and 1,115,000,000 years in prison.
Of course, Facebook could just say it’s not a Cryptocurrency at all but merely a voucher scheme designed so they keep your money in their bank.
The very notion I, Lord d’Artagnan Sywwow, would have anything to do with defrauding a bank, or, rather, several, is preposterous.
I have nothing but respect for the entire structure of the banking system and all those ‘working‘ in it, whom are enjoying the limited time left to them at the expense of others, unaware the date is already set.
Why, if I were guilty of such acts, surely the full force of the law would be upon me.
What, am I immune? Perhaps I have someone or something protecting me as a reward for what I have sent them. ‘Implausible‘ is a word which springs to mind.
I give gifts, I’m known for it.
Let us, for arguments sake, say I am this villain, this thief, what would I be planning next? I already did that thing down the smoke but may never talk on it. I am desirous of fame, fortune and –redacted– I have in mind a something of wonder. But, first, I have to defraud another bank, which I shall do via the British Legal System in a forthcoming court action which they shall pay for. They must pay. They will pay – I shall ensure this: I’m known for it.
It’s not Rocket Surgery: there’s two magazines, Water Sports and Water World. Water Sports is all about water sports whilst Water World is all about Water Sports. How can you manage to mix the covers up unless you’re an idiot of the first degree?
I signed them both off as Editor in Chief but everyone knows I don’t check fuck all because I’m too busy doing extra curricula activities and am above such trivialities.
It’s the Breast Feeding Monthly and Breastfeeding Quarterly disaster all over again.
Being a genius has its downside. Actually, there’s precious little upside. Most of my plans, ideas and schemes come to nought or benefit someone else.
I won’t even try to explain what the hell the above is about other than to comment; if she’d worked, she would have had brains as well as beauty. What might have been, Bonnie MKII, what might have been
I have swiftly abandoned Push Notifications for this site.
Push Notifications is where a message appears on your PC or mobile telling you there’s a new post, video etcetera available. I personally don’t use them except for a couple of on-line email services.
I haven’t used them here for technical reasons and the irritability they cause to viewers. The service leads to an increase in traffic but it’s not worth the aggravation.
One thing to note about Push Notifications, you are giving the programme/site access to your device which, believe me, is being exploited to the max. The data being harvested is alarming. You won’t see many warnings on sites regarding this because most Push Services are third party so the site owners can sidestep this issue.
Lord Sywwow, the greatest man alive, surely, has released a new range of ‘leg dressings’ which are quite simply divine.
Fashion aficionados from around the world have been sniffing about, oh yes they have, eager to see what he’s going to come up with next. Shunning Catwalks he has chosen me, the greatest girl alive, surely, to reveal himself to.
The reclusive genius has also informed me of his new slogan: “Let’s Make Fashion Great Again”.
Have you seen his Statement (a video)? I nearly fainted
A lady purporting to be a Superhero entered the premises occupied by renowned nice guy Mister Sywwow and assaulted the poor innocent fellow.
“She assaulted me”, said the unfortunate chap.
The respected businessman with no links to organised crime said: “I was minding my own business thinking of how I could be a better person and not say things which are mad or stuff which is insulting to tarts, especially blondes, when she burst in and said she was a super hero. She said she was going to teach me a lesson. I always obey tarts because I’m frightened of them, especially blondes, so I just did as she said”.
“She made me do things”, he continued.
Men are advised to be on alert in case she targets them; “Just do as she says”, said her victim; “She’s a superhero after all”, he concluded
Sarah was on a shoot and all was well until the climax of the assignment where the stud wanked his load into her slutty gob for some stunning snaps of her cum-filled trap.
I’ll let Sarah take up the story; “I swallowed it”.
She swallowed it. What a nincompoop.
Blondes, I have had cause to cover this subject before and find it galling to have to return to it: Swallow the cum when you’re told to – not before, during or after, but when you’re told to.
This is as equally important whether you are engaged on an expensive photographic job or in some back alley somewhere.
Sarah, Australia’s top model, spokesperson for The Banana Association of Australia and Sywwow Twat Cooling Spray is a consummate professional and assures me this was a simple mistake; “I love swallowing cum and can’t wait to get it down me. I normally wait until the photographer has finished getting close-ups of the slimy soup in my cake-hole before I let it slip down but I was over-excited as I’d not had any for a couple of days”.
I think that is a plausible explanation. Plus, they’re all going to try again next week and get the required sloppy shots on film.
I’m sorry about this cultural misappropriation and I assure all you green people out there it will not happen again. I have the greatest respect & admiration for all green people and those with a green lineage or whom identify as green. Ffs, my best friend is green. I’m no greenist. Neither is Amazone.
Let me make things worse: This reminds me of my faux pas at the Polo Club where I referred to that guy from the USA Polo Squad as ‘an Indian’. Of course, they’re Native Americans. Though, in my defence, I found out later he was from Pakistan which was formerly part of Native America (India).
Being Australia’s top model doesn’t come easy. Sarah endures hours of fucking to ensure she’s always on top form.
Here, she has gone to some guy’s shitty flat for a training session. Advertising himself as a ‘Slut Trainer’ he puts the blonde through her paces. Some gentle encouragement gets her into gear and she works for his cum as well as her own.
“He was a great trainer and put me through my paces”, said the silly tart. “I thought I recognised him as the man who cuts the trees in the park but he said he didn’t know what a tree was which satisfied my misgivings”.
“I find I need constant training which also helps keep my holes ready for large cocks and strange insertions”, continued the cum bucket.
“My cunt needs to be up for fucking at a moments notice should an assignment come in unexpectedly or I see someone or something I’d like to have inside me”.
“I also need to be shown my place, like in this instance. I’m just a fuck-toy after all”.
I tracked this ‘trainer’ down. Lo-and-behold, he’s gone back to the woods: “It was such hard work training those sluts. There were loads of them. Plus, I’m gay. So fucking gay you wouldn’t believe it”. I offered to take over his website which he was only to pleased to let me do: https://www.I-will-train-your-cunt.com (my new website)
I shan’t let my new found status of “Influencer”, a “Spanking Influencer”, go to my head. Rest assured, I won’t go on & on & on about crap like the environment and all that other shit I don’t give a flying fuck about. Neither shall I be raising awareness about fuck all.
Thinking, for a brief moment, of the many & varied problems the world is confronted with, I shall use my new position for the good, betterment and benefit of ME
Something happened here. Something is always happening here. In this particular happening a blonde became caught.
I won’t shock or distress you by going into all the bizarre details but the blonde had managed to trap herself in the exact same manner as detailed in my ground-breaking article: How to Catch a Blonde.
The incident serves as further proof my ground-breaking article: How to Catch a Blonde is correct in every detail.
After some negotiations and the agreement of the blonde to perform some sordid acts I released her – that’s how nice I am.
I caught a blonde without even setting the trap – that’s what a genius I am.
The Movie they said could never be made, currently on hold as it meanders through the corridors of the High Court in London, will soon be on the big screen but not on Amazon (twats).
Meanwhile, the script will be available on here very soon so you can get a taste of what’s going to be coming in your eyes, ears and all over your face once I have defeated MGM, Eon Productions and some fags who think they know about dealing in death – which they most certainly do not.
It’s got a new tag-line: Death comes inside you (Is that too extreme? It’s a bit like the movie they said could never be made)
Today or some other day I witnessed a Magpie fighting with a sheep. The magpie would not yield as the sheep snarled and spat. Another joined. The magpie was on the head of the first sheep when another appeared. In the end there was five sheep and the magpie was yelling at them from inside a bush.
Perhaps the magpie was me – I don’t know.
I’d eaten a redcurrant cheesecake though I resited the red-head’s and made friends with a dog but that was on the road. That road.
I rescued a lamb once, from the bitter rain, wind & cold. Balance maybe, for I’d killed a sheep once. Neither were from the flock I had in Wales. They made holes in the hedges to run off down the road. They regarded me with little respect.
A magpie died in a tree looking at his little world. I met him quite regularly until he became but bones and eventually dust. I felt sad at his passing but he never knew
I have to go north of the border. It’s a matter of the heart which is why I went to France when no-one is supposed to. I go to the borders sometimes. No-one knows. I saw them burn the bodies there at midnight. The flames were so high I thought it was a dream I was having in the hotel where I was the only guest. I go where no-one will or can